Gossip Girl: It Had To Be You

You know it's a good cocktail if you can't taste the booze

"What's so funny?" Nate demanded in the brightly lit elevator on the way up to Luke's family's loft in Tribeca's distinguished Elmer Building. Formerly a warehouse for Elmer's glue, the Elmer still smelled vaguely of glue despite its polished granite, chrome surfaces, and Armani-clad doorman. But the fumes had nothing to do with Blair and Serena's uncontrollable giggling.

Serena clapped her gray-cashmere-gloved hands over her freshly glossed mouth, her dark blue eyes huge and bright. She stared meaningfully at Blair's crotch and crossed her ankles, which were all zipped up into a pair of taupe, knee-high, pointy-toed biker boots, care of Miu Miu.

Vroom, vroom.

"Stop it!" Blair squealed gleefully. "At least I'm wearing a longer skirt." Not that fourteen inches could actually be categorized as long. The skirt of her mauve distressed-felt Marc Jacobs pinafore barely covered her thighs. "And stockings."

"That's because you're chicken," Serena declared, pulling up the hem of her brown plaid Burberry coat to reveal her ever-tanned bare knees. Her purple velvet Marni tunic clung to the tops of her upper thighs a good eighteen inches above her boots. Tonight they had decided to experiment with a new look and a new purple, brown, and black color scheme. They were also experimenting with going commando.

It was Serena's idea, of course. Blair had only agreed because she never allowed Serena to think she was bolder or more creative or crazier than she was. Anything Serena would do, Blair could do too, though she'd insisted on wearing sheer black stockings, to at least give the illusion that all her bits were covered, and for warmth's sake. Serena had taken it to the extreme, wearing her shortest dress, which was actually meant to be worn over pants, and nothing else. The idea was that if anyone noticed they weren't wearing underwear, they were looking too hard, and were thus demoted to asshole status. It was also a practical joke on Nate. Making him blush was a constant source of entertainment and excitement. Today was Valentine's Day, and this was their funny Valentine to Nate, complete with temporary red heart tattoos on their butt cheeks.

Oh my!

"Do you have to pee or something?" Nate asked Serena, causing the girls to erupt into a fresh round of snorts and giggles

"The elevator arrived at the tenth floor and opened directly into the loft, which was paved with black and white marble tiles and vibrated with the sound of souped-up old James Brown songs. A curly-haired brunette L'École girl was dancing on the twenty-foot-long polished chrome coffee table, her long legs spread into the sort of stripper stance that comes naturally to slutty French girls. In the open kitchen Luke poured something electric green out of a red Miele blender into crystal tumblers full of ice.

"We're not wearing any underwear!" Serena squeaked loudly as she brushed past Nate and threw her coat down on the pile of coats on the floor in the oversize entryway. She wasn't flirting exactly, just telling the truth.

Likely story.

"I thought we weren't supposed to tell," Blair snapped, flinging her new camel hair Max Mara trench in the general direction of the coat pile with genuine irritation. It was fine for Nate to find out on his own when they were alone, ripping each other's clothes off, but she hadn't exactly planned on advertising the fact that she'd gone out without her Hanros. How embarrassing.

"I'm not wearing any either," a tall girl with shoulder-length dark hair highlighted in shades of python and fox confided in a husky voice from across the entryway. Her Chanel Jet–painted toenails peeked out from beneath the hem of a long black halter dress. Her cleavage was so wide and so deep she probably could have carried a Yorkshire terrier in it quite comfortably. Blair, Serena, and Nate stared at her, each experiencing their own cocktail of resentment, envy, and desire. The girl put her hands on her hips and pouted her dark red lips at Nate. "Remember me?"

"Hey L'Wren," he barely mumbled. He'd wanted to sound a lot more surprised so Blair and Serena wouldn't think he'd only wanted to come to the party to see L'Wren, but seeing her ridiculously hot body made him forget himself. All he had to do was untie that knot at the back of her neck and her dress would fall off and then she'd be naked. Oh boy.

Blair grabbed Serena's elbow and dug her nails into it. Who the fuck was L'Wren?

"Come on, Natie, let's go get a drink," Serena commanded briskly. Those green cocktails Luke was making looked yummy. Her plan was to prop herself up on one of those high-backed leather bar stools at the kitchen counter and drink enough of them not to care anymore who saw her butt.

Among other things.

"Actually, I've prepared something special for you in Lukie's room, Natie." L'Wren raised her barely there black eyebrows and held out her hand. "Come check it out."

Nate followed her dutifully down the hall, leaving Blair and Serena behind.

Pant, pant, pant.

"What the fuck?" Blair muttered furiously. Nate was hers, whether he knew it yet or not. How could he possibly already know some slutty girl named L'Wren whom she'd never even laid eyes on before? She tugged down her dress and stomped into the kitchen. "What is that anyway?" she demanded, pointing at the green liquid in the blender on the counter.

Luke grinned. He loved it when pretty girls showed up at his house. It made him feel like a complete success. "Try mine," he offered, holding a crystal tumbler to Blair's lips.

She swallowed half of the green concoction, took a breath, and then finished off the rest. It tasted like Lysol but she didn't give a fuck. "Will you make us some?" she asked, wiping her mouth. Kati and Isabel Coates were on the other side of the room, chain-smoking next to the open window. She stood on her tiptoes and waved to them just as Chuck Bass knelt down behind her, presumably to fetch more ice from the Sub-Zero's ice drawer.

"I thought you were a nice girl," he commented, chucking an ice cube up her skirt. "Are those tattoos?"

Blair glared angrily down at him. Chuck's family and her family lived only four blocks apart and had been friends for generations. He was a complete dick, but there was no escaping him. Of course Chuck was destined to be the first to discover that she wasn't wearing any underwear under her stockings. He'd eagerly tell the universe and then it would be over. That's how it was with lame gossip, Chuck's favorite kind.

"Loser," Serena declared definitively, tossing back her neon green drink. It tasted like Fresca mixed with turpentine and fresh mint. Excellent for the digestion. She grabbed two more and motioned for Blair to follow her. They'd get wasted and smoke cigarettes and Serena would finally tell her all about how her parents wanted her to go to boarding school in the fall. Blair was going to freak, but at least she'd freak less with all this green stuff in her system. What was it anyway—absinthe? Serena lined up the two drinks on the deep windowsill that had been planted with green grass. Then she unsnapped her Fendi button mushroom clutch and retrieved a fresh pack of Parliaments, the only cigarettes she could smoke that didn't give her a sore throat. She popped one between her lips and twiddled another between her fingers, waiting for Blair to finish her ice fight with Chuck so they could talk about more serious matters.

But then Blair's favorite song of the moment came on—that stupid Christmas ensemble rap song with Beyoncé and Jay-Z and all those other rappers. Blair grabbed Chuck's hips and started dancing with him. Serena stubbed out her cigarette and knocked back her second green drink. Discussing the scary future wasn't exactly her idea of fun anyway. Dancing pantyless with a groper like Chuck would be much less stressful.      And that's why she gets invited to all the best parties.